Fix My Eyes
by Mockingjay2001
Summary: Meet Charlotte Gold: attorney and former mercenary. Her friends are super powered and dangerous, but her enemies are even worse. And her current enemy is James Wesley and his employer. Wesley/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! It's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for my absence, I've been trying to write actual fiction lately. And there's also school. School keeps me very busy, unfortunately.**

 **But I started watching Daredevil, along with Jessica Jones, and I just had to write something for it. I've been meaning to write with my OCs, who are also in 'A Force To Be Reckoned With', anyways so this is a good excuse. I have no idea if I'm going to finish that by the way, sorry.**

 **I might sneak some Jessica Jones into here – I already have a reference in the first chapter. Kudos if you find it, though it's pretty obvious.**

 **I don't own anything but my plot, Charlotte, Ellie, Astrid and Jazmine.**

Chapter 1

"We should move out of here," Charlotte stated firmly, her eyes locked on the six o'clock news headline that scrolled across the television screen. "Jaz will be pissed if you run into this so called 'Devil of Hell's Kitchen'."

Ellie just shrugged. "Well, we already paid the rent for this month. We can't move out now."

"I could put a word in for you at Yale," Charlotte continued, ignoring the statement and glancing over at Ellie. She was seated at the kitchen table, face scrunched up in a rather childish matter that suited her well as she concentrated on the task at hand. A multitude of overly expensive colored pencils and markers surrounded her sketchbook as she focused on her drawing. "We could move to New England."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Bleck, Yale. Bunch of prissy lawyers and rich people. I'll stick to New York and its hobos and suspicious food stands, thank you very much."

"Yale has the number one fine arts program in the country," Charlotte pointed out. "You could probably transfer your grant money too."

"Nope, already used it to pay off my tuition at Royal, remember?" Ellie had gone to Royal College of Art in London for two years to get a degree in animation and visual effects, much to Astrid's (who was basically the only maternal figure in their lives at the moment) dismay. Ellie was such a promising student, starting high school at the age of eleven, and Astrid said that she hated to see it all go to waste as an artist.

"You still have to get your masters," Charlotte said, just a tiny bit condescending. "You still wanna work at Disney, right?"

"You're not my mom! And you can't be her, 'cause she's dead!" Ellie said in a sing song voice. Charlotte merely rolled her eyes.

Most people would flinch or be slightly disturbed at the fact that Ellie brought up her deceased mother, but Charlotte had gotten over it within the first week of being roommates with the younger girl. Ellie had forgotten nearly all the memories of her mother by the age of five, three years after her death, so it didn't turn her world upside down, just tilted it at about ten degrees. She could not, however, say the same about Ellie's older sister and Charlotte's best friend, Jazmine.

"Well, I'll admit we should get out of this place." Ellie made a vague gesture to the peeling wallpaper, the faulty pipes, and smashed in dry wall. "It's in awful shape. Also, we live in the same building as thugs and druggies. Great place to get jumped!" She said the last sentence with an enthusiastic smile that screamed SARCASM.

"Your sister is a bit of a thug and was very much a drug addict, and you still lived with her," Charlotte pointed out without even pausing.

"Jaz is way too skinny to be a thug, and she doesn't try to steal my wallet or piss in the hallway," Ellie scoffed. "At least we have Mrs. Cardenas, she's probably the only normal person besides us."

Charlotte turned around, body twisted so that she could look over the back of the couch and straight into Ellie's eyes. "Your mom's car was blown sky high by the mafia, with your mother in it. Your sister's a mercenary who shoots fire out of her hands. I _was_ a mercenary, and I know how to fight better than I know the alphabet. And you're a computer hacker with freaky storm powers. I wouldn't exactly call us _'normal'_."

Silence. Then, "I really hope no one bugged the apartment," Ellie commented, still cheery and unfazed by Charlotte's mini rant. "And that no one was walking by."

The older girl just sighed. "Me too Ellie, me too."

-o-

After quitting her old job (mercenary-ing), and then being fired from Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz for 'sharing confidential information' (one of the partners bribed a juror), work was scarce for Charlotte these days. She had been without a job for nearly three months. At this point, she was thinking about picking up a waitress job to pay rent.

Though, Ellie was wonderful and sweet girl, she worked at Starbucks like most hipsters and art majors - Ellie was both – and Charlotte refused to allow her to wire money from God knows where into either of their bank accounts. After being a mercenary, being a Marine for two years, and finishing her law degree, she tended to steer away from crime these days.

So, she had resorted to wandering around in her most professional-looking lawyer attire (a ruffled blouse, a pencil skirt and stiletto pumps), going door to door at small law firms and asking about job openings, though it was more like begging. It was rather pathetic, but it was the only option she had right now. Pulling up to one of the last law firms on her list of firms in the area, she stepped out of her car - a red Audi from her mercenary days – and silently prayed that they had a job opening for her.

After a few minutes of searching, she finally found the correct office. Or what she hoped was the correct office. The door had a piece of printer paper taped onto the door's glass panel. Since _'Nelson and Murdock Attorneys at Law'_ was written in Sharpie on the paper, so she assumed she was in the right place.

' _Take a deep breath and calm down_ ,' she told herself, and did as her thoughts commanded. ' _And knock._ ' And that's what she did – knock. Three quick raps on the door frame and a few seconds later, she could hear footsteps. The person wore heels, but not three inches high like hers. The door opened up to reveal a young woman with long blonde hair, and reminded her vaguely of Jaz; the two had the same willowy build and big eyes. She looked surprised to see her, as if she was expecting someone else.

"Oh, hello. Would you like to come in?" the woman asked. Charlotte gave a small nod, and the woman stepped aside to let her in. The office was small and undecorated, the hardwood floor littered with open boxes and outdated office supplies. Both the left and right walls had doors, presumably leading to private offices. "I'm Karen, by the way, I'm the secretary." Karen stretched out her hand for her to shake.

"Nice to meet you Karen," Charlotte said with a small grin and shook her hand. The woman's bones were like a bird's, and Charlotte felt as if she nearly broke the woman's hand with her firm handshake.

"Karen, who's there?" A man with shoulder length, dirty blonde hair stepped out of one of the offices. He wore a suit and tie, and was a few inches shorter than both Karen and Charlotte. "Oh, hello. I'm Foggy Nelson."

Another handshake and sugar sweet smile. "Charlotte Gold, nice to meet you."

He looked her over, and scrunched up his face like Ellie did when she was thinking. "You look familiar. Do you work at Landman and Zack?"

She shook her head. "No, but I went up against them in a case once. Their lawyers couldn't stand me, especially some of the female ones."

"Marci Stahl?"

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"

He gave her a grim smile. "She's my ex."

"Oooh, that's rather unfortunate," she replied sympathetically.

"Tell me about it. Do you have a case for us?" Nelson asked suddenly. "Not to be rude, but… we kinda have to pay the bills here."

She shook her head. "Yeah, I know how you feel. But no, but I actually want to talk to both you and Mr. Murdock about something…"

"Talk to me about what?" Charlotte turned around to see a man, also in a suit, with round, reflective sunglasses and a thin cane walk in through the doorway. Though she had to admit, he was very attractive. Too bad he wasn't able to see it, literally. The glasses and cane signaled that he was blind.

"Mr. Murdock, I assume?"

-o-

This new woman had a slight accent, French maybe? But also Southern at the same time. She definitely wasn't from New York. Her expensive perfume and the sound of stiletto heels shifting on the hardwood, along with the rattling of metal jewelry (bracelets probably, too big to be earrings) told him that this woman wasn't poor enough to be living in Hell's Kitchen either.

"Yes, I'm Matt. And you are?" He stuck out his hand blindly – quite literally – and waited for her to shake. He quickly felt a hand grasp his, and felt the calluses on her palms. Her sharp but manicured nails bit into his skin, probably on accident.

"Charlotte Gold, nice to meet you Mr. Murdock." Her voice was smooth and sweet and inviting. Almost seductive, but it wasn't as if she was trying to be. Overall, it was very nice to listen to.

"Are you from around here Ms. Gold? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you have a slight accent…"

She let out a quiet laugh. "Darn, I almost got it to go away. I've been living here for quite a while after all, though I'd lost it. Yes, I'm from New Orleans actually. Born and raised."

"What are you doing all the way up here in New York?" Foggy asked, clearly confused. "Who would trade voodoo and jazz music for rude people and quite literally Hell?"

Another laugh. This one more genuine than the first. "Well, it's a bit of a long story. But I'd like to talk to you in your office, please?"

Matt nodded in agreement. "Sure, just follow me." He led her to his office and he sat down behind his desk. Hearing Charlotte sit down in the chair in front of him, he asked, "How can I help you Ms. Gold?"

Her heart began to pump faster. Not from lying, she hadn't spoken a word so far that wasn't true, but from anxiety. She took a deep breath. "Since you just opened Mr. Murdock, I thought you might need some help. I was wondering if I could offer my services as an experienced attorney, even if it's only part time."

"And those experiences are?" he asked, though he himself had only been practicing law for a few weeks.

"I graduated law school at Yale about… I suppose it's been three years now. I worked for Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz for a little over a year and a half, since I interned there. But I no longer work there at the moment, for… personal reasons." Her heart beat sped up again. She was lying, but he chose to ignore it at the moment.

"Do you have any other job experience?" Matt questioned.

"I worked as a personal assistant right out of college, and I currently coach competitive cheer and gymnastics." That must have been what the calluses were from - gymnastics. He had dated a gymnast in college, and she often complained about calluses and 'rips' – pieces of skin the size of quarters ripping off your palms from practicing on the bars apparatus.

"I didn't know competitive cheer was a thing," he commented, trying to keep the tone casual.

"Oh, don't worry, most people don't. I cheered for about fourteen years, and during college. Though a bunch of rich nerds aren't the best at cheerleading," she said with a chuckle. "You should come and see it sometime- oh, never mind. You're blind, sorry."

He could feel the heat coming off her cheeks from her blush. "It's okay. I'm sure Karen and Foggy would love to see it though."

"That would be great," she replied. "You can't tell, but I'm smiling right now."

"That's great too," he said, though he actually could. Her heartbeat had slowed down significantly too, signaling that she was less nervous than before. "Do you have a copy of your resume? I'll show it to Foggy and we'll discuss hiring you tonight."

"I do, actually. Hold on just a second." She picked up her bag and dug around for a few seconds. Judging from the time she took looking for it, she had a relatively large purse. Or maybe just a very messy one. "Here we go." He held out his hand and she handed him a smooth manila folder.

"Okay." He stood up and walked out from behind his desk. Charlotte stood up also, picking her bag up from the floor. "It was nice to meet you Ms. Gold."

"Likewise, Mr. Murdock."

 **So this story will talk about Jazmine - Ellie's sister and Charlotte's friend - quite often. You will meet her within the next five (?) chapters, I promise.**

 **By the way, Charlotte is 28, if anyone was interested.**

 **-MJ2001**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to Shinigamidemidragonslayer99 for favoriting and following!**

 **I don't own anything but Ellie, Jazmine, Charlotte, and the plot.**

Chapter 2

"Hey guess what, guess what?" Ellie poked her shoulder with each word. Charlotte batted her hand away not even looking up from her from the glowing screen of her phone. "Charlotte, guess what!?"

"What?" she barked, slightly annoyed. After leaving Nelson and Murdock, she had visited three other firms. All of them turned her down, and rather rudely at that. She had had a long day, and wasn't in the mood for Ellie's childish behavior.

"I got a new job!" Ellie squealed, her green eyes practically glowing from excitement.

Charlotte placed her phone on the coffee table and grinned. "Oh my gosh Ellie, that's great! I didn't know you were looking for a job, though."

The younger girl merely shrugged. "Can't work at Starbucks forever, right? Gotta work my way up. And pay the rent. I ran into Astrid's friend, Vanessa. Me and Jaz used to hang out with her a lot when we were little. She works at an art gallery, and I stopped by there to see if I could get Madeline and Adrian a present for their new house in Queens. And when she asked about me paying, I told her I'd need to wait until I got a better job to buy the painting. And she offered me a job, right there on the spot!"

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to dye your hair a proper color if you're going to have an _actual_ job," she pointed out, gesturing to Ellie's wildly curly hair. It started navy blue at the roots, then faded to sky blue into teal, and then mint green at the tips. Everything besides the navy blue was extensions. Though it was gorgeous and suited her personality well, most employers didn't approve of it.

"I asked her about it, and she told me it was fine. Just need to take my extensions out. She did say I'd have to dress up a bit more to counteract my hair, though," Ellie replied. "Speaking of which, can I borrow some of your lawyer clothes? I don't have any professional looking stuff."

"Yeah, sure, just make sure to ask me first," Charlotte said, and went back to her phone. "When do you start?"

"Um, about that… I start tomorrow morning."

-o-

"Where is that girl?" Vanessa muttered, glancing at her watch. She had told Ellie to be at the gallery by six, if she wanted the job. It was already ten minutes past that, though she did know New York traffic had a tendency for being unpredictable…

"Hi, Ms. Marianna," Ellie greeted with a sheepish smile, surprising Vanessa. The girl had practically popped out of thin air; Vanessa hadn't even heard her walk over. Ellie's current attire was much different than yesterday's sweatshirt and leggings, much more formal and mature. Not revealing mature, but mature in a way that she looked like a woman, instead of a girl.

"I'm so sorry for being late, traffic was terrible and I was stuck on 15th for ages," she apologized with a small frown. "I'll try to avoid taking a cab next time."

Vanessa waved it away with a flick of her wrist. "Its fine, traffic is usually hectic in New York. Though you look very…" she paused, not knowing what to say without offending her. "…out of character."

Ellie gave her a shy grin, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. It made her look even younger than her nineteen years, and made Vanessa feel old in comparison. "These are all my roommate's clothes. I don't really own anything this professional. And judging by the way you dressed yesterday, I couldn't show up wearing a galaxy print hoodie and my Converse."

"I rather liked the galaxy print," Vanessa commented. "Very abstract." Ellie giggled in response.

"Well, I assumed your clientele wouldn't appreciate it as much as you and I do," Ellie replied. The older woman often forgot that Ellie was a legal adult – she seemed so carefree and joyful most of the time, and it was odd to hear her speak with such a vocabulary. Then again, this was the girl who started high school at eleven. She was incredibly smart, under her childish exterior and gleeful smiles.

How was she so different from emotionless and coldly logical Astrid, who – despite her flaws - was one of Vanessa's oldest friends and the closest thing Ellie had to a mother? And what had happened to make Ellie's sister so cynical and disrespectful, while Ellie was sweet as honey and forever optimistic? She may never know.

"You're just going to walk around, describing the paintings in a way that makes sense to you. Put as much emotion and detail as you can. If they ask about buying, steer them over to me," Vanessa explained when Ellie asked about her specific duties. "Just look at the paintings, and don't say what you see, tell what it makes you feel. And ask about what the client feels also."

Ellie let out a small laugh. "You sound like Jaz, when she was taking her psychology courses. But yeah, I got the basis of it. Thank you so much again, Ms. Marianna, for hiring me."

Vanessa gave her a small smile. "No problem Miss Dare. Just get to work."

-o-

"That reminds me of rain." Fisk glanced over at the young woman who had almost materialized out of thin air – one second he was alone, the next she was there, looking at the painting in front of them with a tilted head and her lips pressed together tightly. "The dark blues and misty greys perfectly embody a rainy and dreadful day, and the vertical brush strokes mimic rain drops falling from the clouds. It's as if sadness, sorrow, and depression were all painted into a canvas. It makes me sad just seeing it."

"What's it called?" Fisk asked, raising an eyebrow, eyes still on the girl. She wore a gauzy mint blouse, a black pencil skirt that depicted a Monet-like floral pattern. Her hair, which was so black it almost looked blue, was pulled into a bun on top of her head, a few loose curls framing her face. She was barely five feet tall and couldn't have been more than sixteen – what was she doing at an art gallery?

She merely shrugged. "I dunno, actually," she admitted, her bluntness almost childlike. "I'm BS-ing it as I go along. Probably 'The Storm Within' or something philosophical. You'd have to ask Ms. Marianna."

"Can I help you with something?" he asked finally, becoming slightly irritated by her dismal answer.

"Actually I'm supposed to be helping you," the girl replied cheerfully, either unfazed or ignoring his annoyance. "I work here," she informed him with a huge smile. Most people would say it was fake, but she just seemed too happy for it to be anything but genuine. "I'm Eleanor Dare, or just Ellie. Can I help you, sir?"

The name sounded vaguely familiar. "Did you grow up here?" he asked. "In Hell's Kitchen?"

Ellie nodded enthusiastically. "Born and raised. My mother moved here about twenty or so years ago, right before I was born. You'd probably know her – Jessica Dare?"

"Never met her," he replied, though he had heard of this woman before. The name Dare was also incredibly familiar, dancing on the tip of his tongue. He would have to ask Wesley to investigate this girl.

"Bummer," she said with a frown, but quickly brightened back up. "Are you looking for anything specific?" she asked suddenly. "Realistic, modern, pop, abstract…?"

"An abstract painting would be nice," he said finally, after a few seconds of thought.

"You might want to go ask Ms. Marianna then," Ellie concluded, gesturing to an older (older than Ellie, at least) woman with wavy, shoulder length hair wearing a plum dress. She was rather attractive, at least to Fisk she was. "I'm not really an abstract person, to be honest. But she's all about emotions, and being honest about what you feel, and all that mushy stuff. I prefer pop art, or impressionism myself."

"Very different styles," he commented. "Though I feel as if pop art suits you."

Her smile was like the sun – bright and radiant and beaming. "Thank you! Now, go talk to Vanessa. She doesn't bite. Usually. Just don't make her angry. Good luck!"

 **We shall meet Astrid - Vanessa's friend and Ellie's mother figure - in the next chapter.**

 **I don't know exactly what chapter I'll work Jazmine into though. But she will be there somewhere.**

 **-MJ2001**


	3. Chapter 3

**So**

 **School sucks. AP classes suck. Scheduling sucks. That's basically my life right now.**

 **I pulled up this doc and something totally screwed up my formatting, had to go back and fix it as much as I could. So if this looks different, that's why.**

 **Don't own anything but my OCs (including Astrid) and my plot.**

Chapter 3

"Wow, this girl's got impressive credentials," Foggy commented. Charlotte Gold's resume was spread out on the office table, and two copies were made so that Karen and Foggy could both read it. Matt simply waited for Karen to ramble off the details of the woman's resume, since he couldn't read it himself.

"Like…?" Matt asked, trailing off.

"She graduated from the New York International School, two years early," Karen began, for Matt's sake, "Was offer several scholarships, two of them presidential. Went to Morehead State in Kentucky, double majored in international relations and journalism. Then went to law school at Yale, graduate magna cum laude. On top of that, she was in the military - a Marine."

"When did she have time to do that?" Matt wondered aloud about the last part.

"She enlisted right after she graduated from Morehead," Foggy informed him, eyes skimming over the paper. "Was in for two and a half years, then received an honorable discharge that August. Doesn't say where she toured or anything though, that's weird."

"Probably classified," Matt said, waving it away, but that detail still made him a bit suspicious. What was she hiding? "Did you find anything about her on the Internet?"

"I Googled her. The first thing that came up was her social media. She's got a lot of followers on there," Foggy told him, pulling up her Instagram page and turning his laptop so that Karen could see the screen.

" _'US Veteran. Three time World Champion. Four time Summit Champion. Morehead and Yale Alumni. Currently in NYC,'_ " Karen read from the screen. "That's what her bio says. I don't know what the second two are. According to her pictures, she does a lot of kickboxing and CrossFit. And also-"Karen reached over to move her finger over the mousepad and click on something. "-she's tagged in a lot of photos with that one singer, Marzia Roux?"

"The British chick?" Foggy asked, clearly baffled. Matt was equally confused, but for different reasons.

"Who's Marzia Roux?" he asked, puzzled.

"Her real name's like Jazmine or something, changed her last name too. Darling, maybe? Pretty famous. She's a singer, and a dancer at a fancy ballet company. Got kidnapped by the mafia a few years ago. It was a big thing on the news since her dad's pretty high up in the government, I'm surprised you didn't hear about it," Foggy said.

Matt shook his head. "No, I've never heard of her."

"Well, Charlotte's kind of famous on social media, so maybe they met while they were at an awards show or something like that," Karen reasoned. "You should ask next time you see her."

"By the way, what are we going to say the next time we see her?" Foggy asked. "I don't think we can hire her. She's got fancier creds than us, but we barely have enough money to pay Karen as a secretary, much less another lawyer/potential partner."

"You've got a point," Matt said. "Should we recommend her to Landman and Zack?"

"I wouldn't recommend anyone to Landman and Zack," Foggy replied with a scoff. "And she said that she's got a bad rep there anyways. What about Silver and Brent? I heard they needed a company lawyer since the other one quit. Something about an affair with a rival company's employee."

"So even though we're giving her bad news, we have good news to counteract it," Karen said slowly, as if thinking out loud. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"So, who wants to tell her?" Foggy asked. "I don't want to be the bearer of bad news."

"But we have good news to go with it!" Karen pointed out.

"I feel like she's the type of person to shoot the messenger," he replied. "And she does kick boxing and she was a Marine. I'd like to stay alive, thank you very much."

Matt ignored both of them. "We can't call her now, it's-"he checked his watch"-almost eleven. I'll call her first thing tomorrow morning."

"That sounds good to me," Foggy said, closing his laptop and standing up from his chair. "But if you get your ass kicked, it's on you."

-o-

"What did you find on Eleanor and Jessica Dare?" Fisk demanded as he climbed into the car, the door shutting behind him. Wesley took out his phone and pulled up the file his source had emailed him.

"Eleanor Elizabeth Dare, age nineteen. No record of birth, social security, identification, or finger prints. Has one sister, older, Jazmine Dare, or Marzia Roux as she goes by nowadays. Graduated from the New York International School at the age of fifteen. After that she went to Royal College of Art in London, graduated there with a degree in graphic design and computer animation last year. Currently lives in Hell's Kitchen with a roommate, in the apartments owned by Armand Tully that we're currently trying to get possession of."

"And her mother?"

"Jessica Jane Dare, died eighteen years ago. Also no trace of birth certificate, ID – nothing. Not a trace of her except for a newspaper and some local gossip. Former Marine, participated in Operation Desert Storm, and also worked for the Spectrum Agency. Rumored to help Ben Urich take down the Italian mafia in New York, then moved to Hell's Kitchen with her daughter Jazmine, a few years after the mafia dissipated. Was then killed in a car accident caused by the mafia, for destroying their operations in New York."

"That is unfortunate," Fisk said with a sigh, then asked, "Did you say she worked for the Spectrum Agency?" Wesley swore he heard a hint of fear in his voice – for a good reason too. Even Wesley himself was frightened of the female mercenaries for hire known as the Spectrum Agency, and that's why Fisk wanted him to make an alliance with them. They would be a perfect replacement for the Russians when they took them out of the equation.

"Yes, she was one of their best snipers. Her daughter Jazmine also works for Spectrum, but Eleanor does not," Wesley explained. "I also found Eleanor's address – would you like for me to pay her a visit?"

"Perhaps tomorrow, but right now I want you to meet the Spectrum agent. It's more important right now."

"Understood sir." Wesley nodded and pocketed his phone right as they pulled up outside the meeting place. It was a tiny, hole in the wall bar known for its drug trade and generally illegal activity. They exited the car, and Wesley wrinkled his nose at the sight of garbage littering the sidewalk and a drunk man lying on the ground, a bottle of beer in his hand and drool dripping out of the side of his mouth. He hated this city.

They entered the bar, both the men's suits looking completely out of place in the sea of t-shirts and jeans, minus a woman sitting at the bar. She looked to be in her late thirties, and was the only other person wearing any sort of formal attire - a white button up shirt, a grey suit jacket, a black tie, and a pair of black trousers. She seemed to be staring off into space; the thousand yard stare of intoxication. Her gold hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and was elegantly sipping a martini.

"Madam O'Hare, I assume?" Fisk asked, walking over to the woman. She snapped out of her trance, eyes locking on Fisk. She looked him over like he was a lab specimen, then moved her gaze to Wesley, though she only glanced at him for a brief second before looking back at Fisk.

"You're the employer, I assume?" O'Hare asked in the same tone, raising a thin eyebrow. There was no slur in her words, signaling that she was in fact sober. She had a slight French accent that made her words sound flowing and seductive. Wesley gave a sharp nod, and the woman hopped off the bar stool. "Please follow me."

She led them to a back room that smelled of mildew, but was cleaner than the rest of this establishment. A bottle of wine sat on a fold-up table, along with three glasses. O'Hare poured herself a glass, then looked to the two of them. "1974 Châteauneuf du Pape, would you care for a glass?"

"Yes please." O'Hare poured Fisk a glass and handed to him, then raised an eyebrow at Wesley in silent question. He shook his head no. He'd like to stay completely sober in case something went wrong. And knowing Madam O'Hare's reputation, it probably would.

"So, you are…?" she asked, walking around the table. She stopped to come face to face with Fisk and held out her hand.

"Wilson Fisk, Madam." He shook her hand. "And this is Wesley, my associate."

This time, her stare was very unnerving, and felt as if she was picking him apart under a microscope. Upon closer examination, she seemed to be about fifty. Or maybe she just had one of those ageless faces - he couldn't tell. Finally, she held out her hand. "Astrid O'Hare, nice to place a name with a face Mr. Wesley."

"To you as well Madam," he replied and shook her hand. "How do you know my name, we've never spoke before to my knowledge."

Astrid gave him a smirk, as if she knew something he didn't. "Oh, Charlotte told me about you. So did Jazmine. Be very lucky I chose not to have you killed." The blood drained from his face, and Fisk seemed slightly disturbed by the woman's comment but made a mental note to ask Wesley about it later.

"Shall we sit?" she asked suddenly, and, as if be moved by puppet strings, both of them sat down. Astrid gracefully seated herself in the chair opposite to them, so that she could face them. "What can I do for you, Mr. Fi-?"

"We don't say his name," Wesley snapped out of habit. Astrid gave him a cold glare.

"I should have had you eviscerated when I had the chance," she remarked casually, as if commenting on the weather, then turned back to Fisk. "What can I do for you, Mr. Fisk?"

"I'd like to strike a deal between the Spectrum Agency and our small group that we have at the moment," Fisk began. "I'm trying to make this city better. We need someone to transport another party's product, in order to fund our current… activities."

"I don't care about this city. But who is in this group?" she asked in response, taking a sip of her wine. A pale pink lipstick stain was imprinted on the rim of the glass when she set it down.

"Leland Owsley, Nobu, Madam Gao, and the Russians," Wesley replied. "And of course, myself and my employer."

She raised an eyebrow. "The Russians, what do they do?"

"They transfer Madam Gao's product across Hell's Kitchen, and also bring in additional income through a trafficking ring."

"I have no problem with heroin. But we do not support human trafficking," Astrid stated firmly. Wesley raised an eyebrow. The Spectrum Agency assassinated monarchs, stole treasures, threatened politicians, manipulated governments, and tortured people, but refused to participate in human trafficking? Interesting. "If you continue to involve the Russians, I refuse to let my agents take part in this."

"We were planning on taking the Russians out eventually," Wesley amended quickly, catching his mistake. "We can simply move that up."

Astrid pressed her lips into a fine line. "I will send one of my personal agents to help you. I simply need a location and a time."

"Only one?" Fisk growled.

"We don't have enough for more than one," she informed him briskly, manicured nails tapping on the table impatiently.

"You have thousands of agents!" He was practically shouting now. "Why not send a whole team of them?!"

Unfazed by his anger, she responded, "We have other cases than yours to deal with, Mr. Fisk. You're not the center of the universe. And the agents on my personal squadron are better than anyone in the entire force. I will send two then, if you're going to be so… particular. They'll have orders to do whatever you'd like, minus a few tasks for personal reasons.

"I'd advise sending one to coral the Russians, the other to take care of that masked man running around. He's causing an awful lot of ruckus as of late. I'm surprised you haven't taken him out yet. Or perhaps you can't…?"

The woman glanced up at Fisk, who was losing his temper by the second, and Wesley, whose expression remained emotionless. "You really can't kill him, can you?" she asked, and barked a laugh. "All this power and you can't kill one man! It must irk you so much for him to ruin all of your plans, one single man-"

Fisk lost it. He flipped the table, sending the glasses and bottle of wine flying. Astrid snatched the bottle out of the air, but the glasses hit the wall and shattered merely inches from her face. "That was very rude," she said smoothly, not at all surprised by his actions, standing up and brushing invisible dust off her pants. "This bottle cost more than your life. What are you going to do next, hit me?"

A fist went flying towards her face. Fisk had already predicted the result, her flying into the wall and neck snapping like a twig. But he never even made contact with her skin. Astrid caught his hand, her own hand entrapped in a semi-transparent violet gauntlet made of energy. She twisted his fist and Fisk gasped in pain, unable to move.

"Learn to control your anger, rage does you nothing," Astrid told him, still unfazed, letting go of his hand. Fisk stumbled back, Wesley steadying him. She carefully stepped over the ruins of the table, bottle of wine in hand and high heels clicking on the concrete floor. The woman reached for the door knob, then turned around to face Wesley. "I will be sending the Red Queen and Vesper– Queen to deal with the Russians, Vesper to handle the man in black. Call me with the location and time they should be there within two days, or the deal is off." She tossed him a burner phone – well, more like chucked it at his face - which he barely caught.

 _"B_ _onne nuit, ma chérie_ ," she called as she opened the door and slipped out of the room, leaving Fisk and Wesley and a room of broken tables and empty chairs.

 **Fisk was very OOC. I am aware of this.  
** **  
Follow, favorite, review, etc.**

 **-MJ2001**


	4. Chapter 4

**More of a filler chapter than anything, sorry! I've been incredibly busy!**

 **I don't own anything Daredevil, nor the Marvel franchise. I only own Charlotte, Cleo, Ellie, and my other OCs.**

Chapter 4

"Okay, okay, thank you. Yes, it's fine, I swear. Yes, I'll look into it, right after this. Okay, thank you so much. Yes, it's fine, I'm fine. Bye." Charlotte tossed her phone onto the coffee table, collapsed onto the couch face first and screamed into a pillow. Ellie glanced down at her from her place on the arm rest.

"Did you not get the job?" Ellie asked, though she already knew the answer judging by Charlotte's reaction.

"Nope," she replied sullenly, voice slightly muffled from the pillow. She lifted her head up. "Ugh, I knew that Murdock guy was too hot to be true! He _did_ recommend me to Silver and Brent – mentioned something about being a corporate attorney."

"That's good!" Ellie exclaimed with a smile.

"Well, not really. I'm a criminal defense attorney, not a corporate lawyer," Charlotte said with a sigh. Her phone began to ring once again. "Probably one of the law firms," she muttered, seeing the 'Unknown' as the caller ID and pressed the green 'Accept Call' button. "Hello?"

"I need to meet you somewhere." Charlotte openly sighed at the sound of Cleo's cold, calculating voice.

"Do I need to come in?" she asked. "Hopefully not to spy on SHIELD again. I have no desire to get my ass handed to me by a red, white, and blue super soldier."

"No, we need you for Spectrum." Another sigh. That was even worse.

"I'm a little busy right now," she stated, slightly annoyed.

"You don't even have a job, you're not busy. And this thing is pretty big, and it'll pay well." Charlotte glanced at Ellie, who raised an eyebrow and mouthed ' _who is it?_ '

Charlotte shook her head, then returned back to her call. "Where do you want to meet?"

"Veels Taxi Garage." She raised an eyebrow.

"What?" She had met in some odd places for mercenary jobs and military drop offs alike, but never a taxi garage. Where were taxi garages anyway?

Cleo let out an annoyed sigh. "Just be there tonight, nine sharp." And then she hung up.

"Rude," Charlotte muttered, and hung up the phone.

"Who was that?" Ellie asked.

"Cleo, she wants me to come in," Charlotte replied with an eye roll. "Nine sharp," she said, mimicking the woman's odd accent. "You think I'll have to wear my jump suit, or like a legit suit?"

"Call Cleo back and ask," Ellie suggested.

Charlotte shook her head. "Cleo doesn't have a phone, Astrid just gives her burners and she tosses them after every call."

"Then just wear stuff under it. Jump suits are a dead giveaway for SHIELD agents these days," Ellie replied. "Unless you wanna get shot down by that Nazi thingy, I'd wear a legit suit."

"I suppose," Charlotte sighed, getting up from the couch and heading towards her room to change. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" she yelled across the apartment, after seeing the alarm clock sitting on her dresser.

"Frick, you're right, I have to leave. Don't die!" Ellie called, and Charlotte could hear scuffling and the sound of car keys jingling.

"Don't plan to!" Charlotte yelled back, and the door slammed shut. Now, where was her suit again?

-o-

Wesley stepped out of the car, nose wrinkling at the bitter smell of gasoline and exhaust. He'd prefer to meet at the seedy bar him and Fisk had met Astrid at, but that wasn't an option. Red Queen – whoever that was – had stated that she wanted to meet her fellow agent –Vesper – and the Russians before she started her 'assignment' as she put it. So they decided to meet at one of the Russian strongholds – Veels Taxi Garage.

A red Audi pulled into the garage, and Wesley raised an eyebrow. The Ranskahov brothers weren't stupid enough to blow their cover by buying an expensive car, were they? The car parked near the back of the garage, and out climbed a woman. She had curly brown hair pulled into a high ponytail, and tanned skin. She wore a similar outfit to the one that O'Hare had worn, with the addition of stiletto heels and a pair of gold hoop earrings.

It couldn't be. No, no, no, she quit a _long_ time ago. And she left New York for California right after their fight. It couldn't be…

One of the Smiley Twins, Vlad, walked over to the woman, greeting her in heavily accented English and offered his arm. The woman raised an eyebrow, took his arm and said something, and they quickly switched to Russian. They started walking towards him, chatting rather amicably judging by their tone.

"Ms. Vesper, this is Wesley. He works for our… employer," Vlad said, releasing Charlotte's arm. He also added something in Russian, and sneered at Wesley.

Charlotte raised a thin eyebrow as Wesley looked her over. Same Barbie doll makeup, same amber-colored irises, same perpetual, all-knowing smirk as if she knew something he didn't. She looked older, more mature than the cheerleader and college student he had met all those years ago.

"Nice to see you again James," she purred. Her New Orleans accent was less prominent, much to his disappointment. He had always liked it. "I hear you're a lapdog now?"

"Where is this Red Queen?" he asked, skipping over the pleasantries. He'd like to retain the miniscule shred of dignity he had with the Russians, and Charlotte could make him loose it within seconds.

" _Probably with John_ ," she muttered under her breath in Spanish, then louder said, "She told me to be here at nine sharp. And here I am, in this hellhole." She said the last part to herself, and Wesley had to agree with her on that one.

A taxi pulled up right next to them, and out stepped an Asian woman. She was barely five feet tall, if that, and her dark hair was cut in a blunt bob with her jawline. A black jumpsuit hugged her figure like a glove, and a pair of sturdy black boots encased her feet and covered half her calves. As soon as she exited the car, she turned to Charlotte and started addressing her in Chinese.

"Are you one of Gao's carriers?" Wesley asked suddenly. The woman stopped speaking, and turned around to face him.

"That's f-ing racist," she stated bluntly, in perfect English no less. "And no, I am the Red Queen, Mr. Wesley."

"I'll take care of this man in black, you deal with… them?" Wesley realized she left the question vague on purpose, since they were surrounded by Russians after all.

"Yes, that's fine with me. Personal items off though, you know the rules. And you'll have to change out of your suit, you can't fight in that." She made a gesture to Charlotte's dress shirt, waistcoat, and dress slacks.

The other woman merely shrugged and began to take off her earrings. "Been a long time since I worked with you, though. And you failed to tell me what exactly we were doing, so…" She then removed her other earring, and her usual rings (one that had 'WORLD CHAMPION' engraved on the front along with a year, and a gold and silver band that Charlotte once informed him belonged to her grandmother). She turned to Wesley, grabbed his hand, and pressed the jewelry into his palm. "I expect to have those back," she stated, eyebrows raised as she waited for an answer.

They made eye contact for a split second. Charlotte's eyes were hollow, as if her emotions were nonexistent, and all he could see was his own equally stoic reflection. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied, and she let go of his hand. He put the jewelry in the inside pocket of his jacket, and made a mental note to track her address down and talk to her after this.

"So, what exactly are we doing?" Charlotte asked, turning to the Red Queen. A maniacal smile grew on the other woman's face, chilling Wesley to the bone.

"Oh, you'll see darling. You'll see."

 **Very boring chapter, if we're being honest.**

 **Next is slightly less boring, but very bad writing and OOC if we're being honest.**

 **Follow, favorite, and review please.**

 **-MJ2001**


	5. Chapter 5

**Omg I'm so sorry about the formatting error. My computers acting funky, so uploaded the chapter on my phone and it must have glitched. Ff . net is weird about that sometimes. Once again, very sorry.**

 **Don't own anything but my plot and my characters**

Chapter 5

Charlotte stood in the shadows as the Man in Black snuck what he thought was stealthily into the warehouse. What he didn't know is that it was useless, because every single pair of eyes in the building were glued to him. His head kept darting around. It wasn't even like he was looking – more like tilting his head, as if straining to hear. Maybe he was; his eyes were covered with that silly mask after all.

"Once he gets to the exact center of the warehouse, ambush him. He'll be too far away from either of the exits to make a break for it, and we'll be able to shoot him from up here." Charlotte gestured to the balcony that surrounded the perimeter of main floor. "We can't kill him though – don't know who he is, and if he turns out to be some sort of Bruce Wayne/Batman type of fellow, people will start asking questions if he disappears."

Vlad – one of the two brothers in charge of the Russians – nodded in agreement. "You are good. Your friend as good as you?"

"Better, if we're being honest," she replied, not even trying to lie. "The Red Queen has ten times more field experience than me, and trains more frequently. Me… not so much. Not anymore at least."

He gave her a surprised look. "Not anymore?"

"I quit… for quite a while, actually. I'm trying to go straight. I got into one bad job, next thing I know someone's threatening my family." She sighed. "So I quit. Moved back here, since I went to school here. Found a roommate, got a job. But then Queen called me. And here I am." Charlotte gave a large gesture to the warehouse.

Vlad opened his mouth to say something, but Charlotte cut him off. "Tell your men to attack, now." He barked a command in Russian, and a swarm of people came running towards the Man in Black. A smile grew on both of their faces, and Charlotte strode to the end of the platform, heading for the stairs. She had some words for this Man in Black.

-o-

Heels. Matt could hear high heels clicking on the concrete floor of the warehouse, amidst the fighting and gunshots. He tried to concentrate on the sound, but quickly lost his train of thought when a knife made contact with his torso, slicing a deep gash into his side. A female voice barked a command in Russian, and everyone froze. The clicking sound was getting closer, and two men grabbed his arms and forced him onto his knees.

A hand tilted his chin up, sharp nails digging into his skin. The smell of expensive perfume and a certain musty scent associated with old clothes was on her skin, and was oddly familiar. "You're the Man in Black, hm? Not so tough now, are you darling?" The faint New Orleans drawl and sugary sweet voice – though now it was more saccharine at this point. He knew exactly who it was.

"Ms. Gold," he greeted with a smirk. He was rewarded with a sucker punch to his face, effectively breaking his nose.

"It's Vesper," she snarled. The name didn't suit her at all. "If I ever hear of you again – whether it be on the news or word on the street – I will put a bullet in your skull." The hand let go of his face, and he heard the clicking noise retreating. "Rough him up, and dispose of him," she called as she walked away. "I don't care how you do it, just make him bleed."

-o-

"I'm off my game," Charlotte commented as Cleo climbed into the passenger side of her Audi. "'Make him bleed.' God, that sounds like a bad action movie."

"That's a surprisingly accurate description of our lives," was all Cleo said, not looking up from her phone. The woman herself seemed bored and apathetic, though Charlotte knew it was simply a mask. Or maybe it wasn't; you never knew with Cleo.

"Good point." They drove in silence, until Cleo spoke up.

"Who was that one guy, who thought I was… Lau or whatever her name was carriers?"

"No one," Charlotte replied all too quickly.

Cleo scoffed. "There was enough tension between you to cut with a knife. Who was he?"

"I don't want to talk about it," was all Charlotte said.

"Are you sure? Because I think-"

"Drop it Cleo." Cleo backed off after her growl, sensing her anger. Charlotte was one of the most patient people Cleo knew, and she seldom became aggravated, so it must have been a very sore point for her. Cleo made a mental note to research this man later. "How've you been?" Charlotte asked, changing the subject.

Cleo shrugged. "Same old, same old. Assignments, been seeing a few old friends. Still living with Liz in London. How are you?"

"Good. Living with Ellie in Hell's Kitchen. Still unemployed. Ellie got a new job with an old friend of 'Strid's. But it's okay, for now."

"And how are Adrian and Madeline?"

"Good. I think Mads is about two months along. Adrian's still an asshole. But he loves Mads, and I guess that's all that matters."

Madeline Marquis-King and Adrian King lived in the suburbs of Queens, the most in-love couple Charlotte had ever seen and still in the honeymoon stage of their marriage despite the fact that their five year anniversary was coming up – something Charlotte was ever so slightly jealous of.

Both of them were old friends of Charlotte. Adrian had been Charlotte's neighbor in New Orleans. She visited him every day despite her step-mother's warnings to stay away from the man who ran a voodoo shop catty-corner to their family's café. And when Charlotte was sent to New York International School when she was twelve, she immediately made friends with her quiet bookworm roommate, Madeline Marquis. Despite her extroverted and upbeat personality clashing with Madeline's shyness, they were the best of friends after a few weeks. Combined with Jazmine – who came to the school a year after Charlotte did – they wreaked havoc during their four years at the school.

They were also all former Spectrum agents, minus Jazmine, who was still deeply involved in the organization. Charlotte went to the Marines to pay off her tuition and was automatically put on leave from the Agency after that, and that distanced her from the illegality of the Spectrum Agency up until now. Madeline quit after an incident in Monaco, where she accidentally shot Jaz (it was a long story) and was now happily married with children. Jazmine, though still taking assignments, had stopped doing drugs and waking up everywhere except her own bed, and now had a music career and a steady relationship and was slowly but surely mellowing out.

"Ellie mentioned getting a painting for their new house," Charlotte mentioned, long nails tapping on the steering wheel as they sat at a red light. "You think we should visit them?"

"Like now?" Cleo asked, raising an eyebrow.

Charlotte nodded. "Yeah, I wanna see their house."

Cleo shook her head. "Adrian doesn't like me. Hasn't since the incident in Dubai. And you should wait for Jazmine, she's coming to New York in a few days. You can all go out to dinner, or whatever you young people do these days."

Despite the fact that Cleo looked like she was in her early twenties and could probably be considered a 'young person', she acted more like she was fifty. Charlotte didn't know the other woman's true age - only that she had looked about twenty two for the nearly ten years Charlotte had known her and that she was much older than that. But that wasn't what caught her attention.

"Jazmine? She's coming to visit?" Charlotte asked, so shocked that she didn't even notice the light turning green until she heard a car honk behind her. "Are you serious?" she asked as she shifted the car into drive and sped through the intersection.

"Yes. NYU offered Gideon a job and they're moving to Hell's Kitchen," Cleo replied, still emotionless.

Charlotte couldn't keep the grin from spreading across her face. Cleo glanced up and raised an eyebrow. "Don't smile like that, it's creepy," Cleo sneered, ever the pessimist.

"But my best friend is moving! _Here_!" Charlotte exclaimed, now beaming.

"You sound like you're five. Now pay attention to the road, I don't want to die in a car crash."

"I have to call her!"

" _Road._ "

But-"

" _ROAD. NOW._ "

 **Once again, very sorry. Next one will hopefully not be a filler chapter.**

 **Review, follow, favorite, etc.**

 **-MJ2001**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, I'm not dead. I got through finals, As on all of them somehow. Now I need to wait for my AP test results, which don't come out till July. Probably failed that though. Hope all of you got through finals, and good luck to anyone taking them now!**

 **Terribly sorry for the last chapter by the way! That's why I usually don't update on my phone. If you didn't see it, then good.**

 **I don't own anything except my characters, Daredevil and all that is owned by Marvel, not looking to make a profit, etc.**

 **By the way, this happens a few days after the events in the last chapter.**

Chapter 6

"Cleo wasn't supposed to tell you," Jazmine told her, the entire statement practically a sigh. Her British accent thicker than Charlotte remembered, and she could tell that Jaz was displeased. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Yeah, but now I know! And we can make plans!" Charlotte said, unaffected by her friend's bad mood.

That wasn't changing her mind. "I was going to show up at your house when you weren't there. Even drag Gideon along. And scare the shit out of you when you got home. Maybe jump out of a cake."

She heard Gideon speaking in the background, probably vetoing Jazmine's cake jumping. Charlotte laughed. "You're not a stripper!" she managed to say between her giggles.

"Yeah, but Cleo is. Make her jump out of a cake. In front of John. Hey, maybe we could do that sometime. For April Fool's. Put a cake in John's office. Have Cleo jump out of it." She was starting to ramble. "Speaking of Cleo, how is she? I haven't seen her around in a while."

"Maybe next year. And I just saw her a few days ago. But when are you coming? I want to meet you at the airport," Charlotte said as Ellie walked into the room from the kitchen.

"Who you talking to?" Ellie asked.

Charlotte moved the phone away from her mouth and answered, "Jazmine."

Ellie's face broke into a grin. "Oooh! Can I talk to her?"

"Sure. Jaz, Ellie wants to talk to you." Charlotte handed her the phone, silently praying that she would get it back within the next hour. And she did – surprisingly enough, Ellie was off the phone in less than half an hour.

"Why so short?" Charlotte asked.

"Genetics," Ellie replied, not missing a beat, and gave a swooping gesture to her entire five foot even self. "You can't say much though, you're only like three inches taller than me."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Not your height, Elle, the conversation!"

"Oh! Jaz had to go somewhere – ballet or something like that," Ellie explained. She tossed Charlotte her phone, and the other girl caught it with ease. "And she's moving! To here!"

"Probably not Hell's Kitchen though," Charlotte commented, a hint of resentment in her voice. Unlike Charlotte, Jazmine and Gideon both came from old money, and would probably be living in a penthouse in the nicer part of the city.

"Eh, I dunno, Jaz mentioned money's been sorta tight for them," Ellie stated, as if reading Charlotte's mind, and plopped down on the couch next to Charlotte.

Charlotte scoffed. "I doubt it."

"But Jaz said she'll be working for John now."

This caught Charlotte's interest. "Instead of Spectrum?"

Ellie shook her head. "Nah, it was sanctioned by them. But that's her official job now – corporate spy for John's company. At least until she gets reassigned."

Charlotte let out a sigh of relief. Her friend would be safe for a short period of time, well safer than before at least. "And Gideon?"

"He's taking a teaching position at NYU. I think he still has ties with MI6, but I'm not sure."

There was a knock on the door. Charlotte and Ellie raised their eyebrows at each other. They didn't have many friends; not any that knew their address or visit them without calling first. The last time they had received an unexpected visit, it had been an assassin sent by Charlotte's former employer. Another knock.

"Coming!" Ellie got up to answer the door and scrambled over to the side table behind the door and grabbed the gun strapped under the table. She tossed it to Charlotte, who pointed it at the door and flicked off the safety, as Ellie unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

-o-

A girl with wildly curly hair opened the door just enough to stick her head out. "Hello!" she said, a huge smile on her face.

The smile he returned hers with was significantly less genuine than hers. "Hello, you must be Eleanor Dare."

"Of course, call me Ellie." Another grin, but she didn't open the door any further. "May I ask what you're here for?"

"I'd like to offer you a deal to move out of these apartments." She raised an eyebrow. He heard something crash, and a few curses in the background. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, probably just my roommate, she's a bit odd. Why don't you come in?"

-o-

"Hello!" Charlotte could practically hear Ellie's smile.

"Hello, you must be Eleanor Dare." Her heart nearly stopped at the voice. There was no way in hell she could run into him twice in one week. She felt her hands begin to shake, and tried to slow down her breathing. She was not going to get herself worked up over this man.

And why the hell did he know Ellie's name? No offense to her, but she was a bit of a nobody illegal business wise. Besides her hacking. And Ellie's sister…

"Of course, call me Ellie." Even the girl herself was unnerved by the fact that a stranger knew her name, judging by her voice.

"I'd like to offer you a deal to move out of these apartments." Her hands were shakings so hard, it sent the gun crashing to the floor, hitting the coffee table and knocking over a few magazines on the way down. Charlotte cursed under her breath.

She heard him ask if everything was alright as she went to pick up the magazines, and then Ellie inviting him in. What the hell, Ellie?! There's a loaded gun on the floor, and no doubt other strange, illegal things that were stashed all around the apartment, and she was going to invite him in?

She quickly stuffed the gun between the cushions of the couch, dumped the magazines on the coffee table, and snatched one of the magazines off the table to look like she was busy just as the door opened.

-o-

Wesley glanced around at the interior of the apartment. The carpet was an ugly oatmeal color and stained in various places, and had attempted to be covered by a robin blue carpet with a mandala pattern. The walls looked to be, at one point, white, but were now just a dirty looking beige. A plush looking chair was shoved into the back corner of the room, next to an overstuffed bookshelf near the window. There was a sectional couch in a color that could only be described as 70s orange sitting the middle of the room facing the at least twenty year old TV placed against the front wall. The kitchen table sat towards the left of the room, as did the kitchen, and he could see a hallway leading towards the bedrooms.

The most noticeable feature was a gaping hole that took up over half of the back wall. It exposed the rusting pipes, insulation, and a tangled up mess of wires. The hole looked to be purposeful, and a note that said 'Fix Me' had been stuck on one of the main pipes.

"Yeah… some guys said they would fix the pipes, and they never did," Ellie said, almost sheepishly as if reading his mind. "WE don't really have the money to fix it, so…"

"We don't," a voice finished. Wesley finally noticed a woman sitting on the couch, bare feet propped up on the coffee table and a magazine in her lap. She looked up from her reading. "Hello James."

"Miss Gold," he said, keeping his voice even. It was odd, seeing her without her makeup and normal attire. Now she just wore a plain black t-shirt and running shorts. He was seeing her without her armor – defenseless, and at her weakest.

He remembered at one point in his life where he saw her like this every day. But that was years ago.

"You two know each other?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow. He just now noticed that her eyebrows were either drawn in or dyed teal to match her hair. Who colors their eyebrows? What was wrong with this girl?*

"Yes," Charlotte said, glaring at Ellie. The message was clear: we know each other, end of discussion.

"Okay…" she trailed off, then perked up again. "Have a seat, mister…?"

"Wesley, James Wesley," he finished, sitting in one of the plush chairs near the couch. "Obviously, you've noticed the rather… undesirable state of this apartment complex."

Charlotte scoffed and muttered what sounded like 'no shit' under her breath. Wesley continued, ignoring her comment.

"They're a mess. And would cost too much to repair each apartment building, so my employer and I would like to demolish them and start fresh."

Charlotte's eyebrows shot up. "Demolish?"

"Yes – without the tenants in them of course. My employer wants to reinvent this city, so to speak, and he wants to start with these apartment buildings." Wesley slid his hand into the interior pocket of his jacket, and Charlotte immediately tensed, back going ramrod straight and her eyes trained on his every move. He saw her shoulders slump and her posture relax when he produced an unmarked envelope out of his jacket. It was clear she wasn't expecting an envelope. "I'm offering an incentive to move out of this building, so we can demolish it and build new complexes."

He held out the envelope for Charlotte to take. Her eyes darted between Wesley and the envelope, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pulled into a small frown. She then snatched it from his hand, and cut through the seal with a single sharp fingernail. Opening it, she counted the bills with a perfect poker face, flicking through them with her thumb. Ellie leaned over from her place behind the couch, not bothering to hide her expression as her eyes widened to the size of tennis balls.

"No way," Ellie muttered, clearly amazed.

"They'll be more wired to your account if you take the offer," Wesley added, hoping this would seal the deal.

The two young women glanced at each other, silently communicating. Charlotte raised an eyebrow, and Ellie nodded her head in conformation. The other woman nodded too. She turned to Wesley, and tossed the envelope on the table. "No deal."

 **Thank you for reviewing, following, favoriting, and just taking the time to read this fic! I really appreciate it! Please continue to follow, favorite, review, etc.**

 **-MJ2001**


	7. Chapter 7

p class="MsoNormal"strongWell, I'm back. I haven't written in forever, whoops. Sorry, I've just been busy. School starts in less than a week, so I've been preparing for that. I also didn't really plan the cliffhanger in the last chapter, so I had to write around that. Whoops. But I've written worse, so here is chapter seven!/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strongBy the way, the asterisk in the last chapter with the eyebrow comment (something about Wesley making a snarky comment in his head about Ellie's dyed eyebrows) was for me to make a mini disclaimer. People with dyed eyebrows are hella cool, but Wesley's sort of a judgmental, stick in the mud, asshole, so he would think something like that. /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strongSee previous chapters for disclaimer. /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Chapter 7/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Yeah Ellie, there's something I have to do. Just ballet, don't worry about it. I'll talk to you later. Love you too, bye." Jazmine ended the call and stuck her smartphone in her back pocket, glancing at the half finished metal structure that would soon join the rest of the skyscrapers in New York City. She felt horrible about lying to both her little sister and Charlotte (she had told them that she wouldn't be in New York for another month), but she could live with it./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Jazmine strode into the building, combat boots soundless on the concrete floor as she walked. Avoiding the construction supplies and various holes in the floor for who knows what, she stepped into a rickety elevator and pressed the button labeled 'ROOF'. As the elevator ascended, she wondered who she was meeting. Astrid, the wonderful woman she was (sarcasm), hadn't told her what she was doing for her client; only that she would be working alongside a few other Spectrum agents for this assignment, and to make a completely separate contract from the one this client currently had with Astrid./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Though Astrid was an excellent tactician and one of the most intelligent people Jazmine knew, she didn't play well with others and never bothered to share her plans with the rest of the Agency. It would eventually all work out in the end – only for Astrid though, who knows what would happen with everyone else./p  
p class="MsoNormal"The elevator came to a stop, and she quickly exited the elevator./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Madam Roux, I am so glad you could join us," a voice called, and Jazmine pivoted around to see a group of seemingly mismatched, well dressed people standing on the windy roof./p  
p class="MsoNormal"'This is going to be fun,' she thought, internal voice dripping with sarcasm, as she made her way over to her clients./p  
p class="MsoNormal"-o-/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Fisk, Owsley, and Gao stood on the roof, waiting for the third agent that Astrid had promised, due to the fact that Fisk would not leave her alone until she sent another one. They needed someone to take out one of the Smiley twins, then send the other on a manhunt for the Man in Black. And a Spectrum agent was the perfect candidate for the job./p  
p class="MsoNormal"The third agent was a tall woman of about twenty five, with her dark brown hair pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head, the rest of it hanging in choppy fringe just above her eyebrows. She wore a leather jacket zipped to her neck, leggings, and combat boots, aviator sunglasses covering her eyes. The only things remarkable about her were her freakishly pale skin and high cheekbones, so sharp they could cut glass. /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I thought Spectrum agents were supposed to be fighters. But this girl is a freaking toothpick!" Owsley mutterd. He was right; the agent's long limbs were like sticks, and the rest of her body wasn't much better./p  
p class="MsoNormal"But Gao shook her head in disagreement. "Look closer," she said. "Not all warriors are the same." Everyone examined the woman closer as she shed her coat and left it to hang around her shoulders. She was slim, but not scrawny. There was muscle on her frame, especially on her legs, and they all took note of the two daggers strapped to her sides./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'm so glad you could make it Madam," Fisk called, being the first to speak to the agent now that she was in earshot. She stopped midstride, and raised an eyebrow. "I am Wilson Fisk, and you are?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Roux," she replied. Despite having a French name, she had a thick British accent. "Just Roux. No madam. What is it that you require, sir?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'd like you to kill off one of the Ranskahov brothers, it doesn't matter which. Then frame another man for it, the Man in Black as the press calls him," Fisk explained./p  
p class="MsoNormal"She raised a sharply arched eyebrow. "The other man, is he innocent?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""He's done many horrible things, both to my men and this city. He is a menace, and needs to be stopped anyways," Fisk lied easily. "I need this done in the next hour, so-"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""No."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"This made Fisk stop speaking in shock, and Owsley spluttered next to him. "What do you mean, no?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'm not your slave, darling, and I'm not Queen or Vesper." She walked a bit closer to the group, and Owsley backed away. Fisk and Gao stood their ground. She lowered her sunglasses, revealing large, doll like eyes rimmed with black liner. Her eyes flashed from pale grey-green to an unnatural amber. "I am not under your contract with Astrid, you make a separate deal with me."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""What do you want? Money-?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"She cut him off. "No. I want the trafficking to stop, now. I want those girls released into either police custody, or to the Spectrum Agency."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Owsley scoffed. "What, so you can make new agents? Or sell them somewhere else?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Her gaze snapped towards Owsley, who flinched at her glare. "So we can send them home," she replied coolly, but her eyes began glowing brighter in what Fisk assumed was anger./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Madam O'Hare didn't inform us you were a metahuman," Fisk commented casually, as if speaking about the weather. /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Sure, if that's what they're calling it nowadays," she said with a wink. Then she became serious once again. "Have the girls released, or I walk. Oh and I want your blind slaves released also, to us of course," she added, looking directly at Gao and extended her hand. "Deal or no deal?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Fisk glanced at his companions. Owsley was rapidly mouthing no and making swiping motions, while Gao remained impartial, though looked as if she was about to lunge over and rip Roux's throat out. Fisk turned back to 'Roux'. "I accept."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"She wiggled her fingers, which Fisk noticed were clad in a leather glove. "Shake on it darling."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"He reluctantly outstretched his hand and gripped hers, and as soon as he did, a flame the same color as her eyes sparked around their hands to their wrists, signifying their contract*. It didn't burn like real fire, and faded when she let go of his hand./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'll have him dead within the next few days, and the man framed within the week," she told him. "Call Astrid if anything changes." She snapped her fingers, and vanished into thin air, leaving three mismatched and now very confused people on the roof./p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong*Imagine like the blue flame with Bill Cipher from Gravity Falls when he makes deals. /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strongShort and crappy, sorry. Jazmine is actually my main character in most of my stories, it's hard to write her as a minor character. /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strongWe will find out how Wesley reacts and what the girls do in the next chapter. /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strongReview, favorite, follow, etc./strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong-MJ2001/strong/p 


End file.
